My normal method of dealing with depression isn’t working. Listening to the collected works of George Carlin on repeat isn’t cheering me up, and frankly if I listened to any Bill Hicks right now I’d kill myself. I guess I’ll try some Pryor.
Archive for the 'Stupidity' Category
Just picked up a used replacement for my phone. Needs charging. Hope it works. This is the third replacement in 4 weeks-if you count the sold out “free” replacement from my telco. I really want this to work-if it doesn’t I’m going to cry. And then I’m going to lay down and die. My life is tied to phones and computers, without them I have no life or work.
I had been using Plaxo as my online backup address book and contact manager. Then they sold themselves to Comcast today. I’ve spent months of my life on the phone with those idiots straightening out my parents account with them, until their contract ran out. Comcast’s craptacular billing and customer service is just part of their problem: lying is part part of their corporate culture. Not just to you and me, not just in ads, but to Congress. Screw them, they lie about service, they lie about blocking ports, they lie about your bill. I do not trust them with any of my data. If you use Plaxo, delte your account NOW, before Comcast has a chance to change the terms and conditions-right now Plaxo removes any and all traces or your data form their servers.
Obviously if you use Plaxo’s syncing tools, sync one last time. Then back up your data locally, and remove their syncing software. Then remove your Plaxo account-you can use this link to delete you account. (Thanks to Leo Laporte for the link!)
Well it was bound to happen. Spend as much time as I do without sleep and your bound to cross the line. I’m now a Zombie. Last clear thing I remember was looking at my cellphone in the Skylark and seeing it was 10:30. Suddenly, I’m surronded by very angry african American males in some alley. Then the cops show up, the guys scatter, I’m explaining to the cops that I’m a photographer looking for things to shoot, being allowed to leave the alley and finding myself in the near downtown area, very close to where I was born. An area I haven’t been in in years. Next thing I know I’m being told I can’t sleep in the park by an Evanston cop. I check my cellphone for the time, and it’s over twenty four hours after I checked it in the Lark. A more thorough check indicates I’ve recieved and made calls since I last looked at the phone. I seem to have lost my shoes and winter coat. I feel like I’ve been beaten with sticks, my right ear is swollen and ringing and I’m hungry. And I’ve lost an entire day. This is like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone: all the blackout without any of the substance abuse(TM). What’s my sign? Paranoia rising! I can see where this is shaping up to be one fun summer.
If i walked around with my right pant leg permanetly cuffed up to my knee, wore bike shoes, carried an Alien Tool instead of a Swiss Army knife, rode a converted fixed gear bike, told people that Chicago is flat so you only need one gear and scrawled “Campagnola is Art” all over the place I’d be cool.
Screw that noise. Bonneville is flat, Chicago has ridges and bridges. I want at least ten gears, a mirror, lights fore and aft, fenders and a rack. Track tires are for tracks, you morons. I want a lot of tread on the road, expecially when it rains. We also have this thing called traffic, which is full of self absorbed idiots on cell phones driving cars that outweigh a stupid fixie by 2 tons, so I want brakes (this is why most fixies travel little faster then I do–panic stops are a bitch when your legs are the brakes). And I want a helmet, if i had a hundred bucks I’d wear a armored motorcycle jacket–road rash isn’t pretty when all your wearing is designer bike shorts and shirts (actually if i had a hundred buck I’d either be replacing the wheels that were stolen off of my bike, or my bike).
And kids, if the rules hadn’t been changed back in the twenties, Lance Armstrong would be riding a recumbent with an aero flaring.
Despite their obsession, fixie posers aren’t nerds. They’re way too stupid. But Rat and Tall bikers are, and they’re totally cool.
When you absolutely must have a dessicated cunt, you don’t mind waiting in line for a while and are unconcerned about getting a little plagerism on your self.
